


Skeleton in the Closet

by Stella_STARgazer



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hints of Freakytits - Freeform, stuck in a closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_STARgazer/pseuds/Stella_STARgazer
Summary: A flipped breaker leads the Governor and Deputy to the grimy electric closet. Things do not go as expected.





	Skeleton in the Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Loose interpretation of a one shot prompt suggested on Twitter: "Joan and Vera get stuck in a closet together."
> 
> I've had this in process for a while, but my writing mojo went MIA for a while. Inspiration struck while at work today, so I was finally able to finish this little fic. I hope you all enjoy; let me know if you do! As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read. :)

Side by side Governor and underling stand staring at the wall littered with a network of breakers in the tiny electric closet. The panel of switches and gauges resembles that of a German u-boat and the women squint in the dim, flickering light as they struggle to read the small, age-worn type-print labels below each switch on the board. It’s clear nothing has been updated for at least a decade, and it’s likely been just as long since the room was last cleaned. 

“Ah, here it is.” Joan remarks as she spots the flipped breaker on the panel that controls the attached kitchenette of her office.

“Oh, thank God because it’s stifling in here.” Vera replies with a sigh of relief.

From the back waist of her trousers, she removes her trusted black leather gloves, slipping them on pristine hands before she reaches forward and flips the switch, rising to her full height just as the bulb overhead gives a final flicker and pop before going out completely. She casts her dark gaze toward the ceiling, displeasure escaping her mouth in a curt “tsk”. Vera reaches immediately for the torch on her utility belt.

“Unacceptable. I want to see Mr. Turner first thing tomorrow morning so we may discuss the deplorable state of this room. I expect it to be updated within the week.”

“Of course.” Vera replies before the light of her torch pierces the dark that envelopes them, setting her fluttering heart at ease. Reaching for the door knob, she turns it and pushes forward but the door doesn’t budge. She releases the knob and tries again, turning hard and leaning into the door with a firm shoulder.

“It’s...stuck.” She grumbles as her heart begins to slightly quicken pace again and a fine sheen of perspiration starts to glisten along her hairline. Small spaces bring back a particularly ugly memory.

“Step aside, Vera.” Slipping past the smaller woman into the focused light of the torch, she grabs hold of the knob and tries to wrangle the stubborn latch free. After three unsuccessful attempts, she steps back and looks toward Vera. 

“Well, the latch must be broken...like a number of other things in this room. Radio one of the guards to see if someone can open it from the outside.” Vera reaches for the two-way on her hip and calls for assistance.

“Sierra 3 to available guard.” Seconds pass and no one answers.

“Sierra 3 calling Sierra 4. Officer Jackson….” Still she gets no reply.

“I don’t think I’m getting a signal in here.” She finally states after a few more seconds with no response, her voice taking on a tremulous edge.

Pulling her mobile from her trouser pocket, Joan clicks on the screen to call her receptionist, but sees that she has no cell reception either. “Fuck.” She growls below her breath as she shoves the phone back into her pocket.

Wide-eyed, Vera peers up at her with a petrified expression. “We’re...we’re...trapped in here?!” Panic permeates her trembling voice as the realization sinks in.

“It appears so. Officer rounds won’t be for another two hours either.” Joan quips with an extremely displeased shake of her head, too distracted by her own irritation to notice Vera’s obvious discomfort. The governor being locked in a grimy closet is an absolutely atrocious turn of events. Mr. Turner might just lose his job, come tomorrow morning. With a heavy sigh, she leans against the door, tugging at the cuffs of her shirt sleeves in irritation. Dark eyes narrow suspiciously when she finally hears the younger woman’s labored breathing and sees the light from the torch begin to dance across the opposite wall.

“Is there a problem, Vera?”

“I...I just, I can’t….small…dark spaces…..” Vera chokes out tightly as she begins to hyperventilate. Her heart hammers against her narrow ribcage and every muscle in her slender frame grows tense as panic settles in. She hates herself for being like this, but phobias never cooperate with reason.

Immediately recognizing the anxiety in Vera’s voice, Joan holds in a frustrated groan and shakes her head at the pathetic display of weakness. “You’re having a panic attack.” She approaches Vera’s side and guides her back to the far wall of the room with a firm grip on bony shoulders. She bends at the knees to get eye level with the smaller woman, her dark eyes searching the watery aquamarine gaze peering back at her in the dim light.

“Focus, Vera. Control your breathing.” Vera gasps and fights to slow her ragged breaths. “It’s just fear, don’t let it control you.” Joan commands sternly as she watches the younger woman continue to struggle. “I know...it’s stupid...but...I can’t...stop….” she spews in a flourish of hiccups and broken words. “Yes, you can. Don’t be weak.” Joan commands with a hint of cruelty, snapping her gloved fingers just inches from Vera’s face.

Embarrassed by her reaction and lack of ability to gain control, Vera offers an explanation between gasps as the tears begin to well in her eyes. “I….accidentally broke a lamp….when I was six....and mum….locked me...in the closet...she forgot….about me for….7 hours.” Crumpling into herself, she looks no bigger than a child as she trembles and gulps between sobs, no longer able to maintain eye contact with her superior. She’s never told anyone of the traumas she’s endured at the hands of her mother. She’d have kept the secret too, if it weren’t for this unfortunate turn of events.

At the strangled confession, Joan’s mouth falls open as her mind conjures images of the tortures she endured from her own father. Many a night had been spent locked away in the closet, but unlike Vera, she’d grown to accept and even welcome the dark solitude it provided her. At least in there, she was free from his caustic words and torturous punishments.

Since her arrival at Wentworth, she’s always felt some strange pull toward the modest deputy, but had never been able to understand the compulsion before, often finding herself torn between keeping distant and desiring to become closer to the timid, yet intriguing younger woman. She realizes now the bond they share; as kindred spirits, both tormented by unfit parents. Kinship compels her into compassionate action that she would never offer another.

“Ok, shh, shhh. It’s alright, Vera. Just listen to me and we’ll get you through this. I want you to slide down the wall and sit, with your legs out in front of you.” It takes a moment for Vera to register the directions, but eventually she does as she is told and Joan sinks down to squat before her as Vera coughs and sputters for air. Realizing Vera’s beyond the point of comprehension, and dangerously close to passing out, she resigns to the tactic she knows will bring results; it worked on Spiteri, and a few others before her.

“Shift forward a little.” Releasing the buttons of her jacket, she slips into the space between Vera and the wall, extending her long legs out on either side of the smaller woman. Wrapping her right arm around Vera’s waist, she lays a flat palm on her trembling belly as she nestles her chin into the crook of Vera’s shoulder.

“I need you to breathe with me, Vera, can you do that?” She whispers in a surprisingly tender tone. With a shaky exhale, Vera nods, but remains rigid in her grasp.

“Good. Now, feel my breaths and match them. Inhale deeply through your nose, down into my hand, and exhale out of your mouth.” She breathes slow and steady, allowing Vera to feel her chest as it rises and falls against her narrow back.

Unlike with Spiteri, sympathy propels this embrace; it’s more than just a means to an end. She curls around the smaller woman, drawing her tiny frame against her sturdy chest. With Spiteri, and the other pathetic souls before her, her mind would check out now and wander to other things, the proximity of the other body holding no interest in her brain; the act of tenderness merely a necessity to achieve her final goal. Curious though, that she feels herself intrigued this time, her mind staying connected to the present moment, analyzing the way her body feels at each point they are connected.

Like a scientist, she mentally studies the exchange; the combined heat of their bodies drawn so close together, the pressure against her breast from the notched column of Vera’s spine. The faint, surprisingly pleasant, smell of Vera’s shampoo. Analysis concludes that she gains an unexpected pleasure from the contact; a discovery that both captivates and concerns her. Conceding to emotion and the desire to connect with another has only ever proved disastrous in her experience. Caution and self-preservation always compel her to keep her distance, life having continually proven her father’s mantra that emotions lead to mistakes.

Gradually Vera’s breathing grows steady and eventually the rigidness of her muscles gives way, causing her to nestle more fully into Joan’s embrace. Her death grip on Joan’s arms wrapped around her relaxes, but neither woman moves. She’s in awe of the calm that overcomes her, the safety she feels in this taboo embrace; it’s a craving she’s always had, but it’s never been fulfilled. Silence surrounds them in the darkened space, but the way they stay entwined says more than words ever could.

A long while later, Joan eventually shifts and Vera aches with the thought of this moment coming to an end. Removing her hand from atop Joan’s that still rests on her stomach, she inhales deeply as Joan slowly pulls away.

“I have to get up, my left leg has gone to sleep.” Joan whispers with what Vera thinks is a hint of regret, but that’s probably just wishful thinking. Shifting forward, she rises to her feet and steps away, offering a hand to help Joan rise from the floor. Joan looks up and eyes her for a moment before eventually reaching forward to accept the proffered hand. Once on her feet, she meets Vera’s timid gaze, barely visible in the dim light from the torch that remains on the floor. Their hands remain joined between them.

Joan blinks, her elegant lips part slightly as she watches the smaller woman, who searches her gaze with hopeful ocean eyes. A black leather hand rises toward Vera’s chiseled cheek as the tall woman begins an agonizingly slow dip of her head, toward Vera’s face.

A crackle of a two-way is heard on the other side of the door, followed by increasingly loud foot fall and the spell is suddenly broken, Joan’s dark eyes instantly shifting to the sound. Blue green eyes slip closed in disappointment as Joan’s stern voice calls to the unseen guard.

“Assistance is required. The deputy and I are stuck in the electric closet.”

The guard approaches and calls to them inside, Joan giving directions as she removes her gloves and tucks them back into their hidden home. A rattling of the handle signals the attempts to set them free, but Vera finds herself wishing for just a moment more as she watches Joan straighten her uniform and  brush the dust from her rear. After straightening her appearance, she turns one final time to Vera, her dark gaze softening. She reaches up, this time placing a bare palm on Vera’s cheek, her elegant thumb brushing tenderly across the apple as she offers a concerned glance.

“Are you ok?” She questions gently, a reserved smile drawing across her elegant mouth as Vera slowly nods in the affirmative. Her hand lingers for another moment until the click of the handle engages and the first sliver of light trickles in.

With a small nod, she places a firm hand at the small of Vera’s back, ushering her first out of the door. It falls away as soon as they exit the room, but the pleasurable weight of it lingers for hours more.


End file.
